


Passing Breath

by FrostOverlord



Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Mention of Character Death, Story time with Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostOverlord/pseuds/FrostOverlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>'Would I have even known that I was lonely, if it was all I’d ever known?"</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passing Breath

_‘Three hundred years… it’s a long time to be alone, to have no one to care about you, to comfort you or to protect you. Three hundred years, effectively my entire life until now. If I had been alone for all of it, I wonder, would I have made it to this day? Would I be here, standing over a pile of rocks and thinking about how good it feels to finally have people that might possibly care? If I’d never found her so long ago, would I still have kept going? Would I have survived to become a Guardian?_

_Would I have even known that I was lonely, if it was all I’d ever known?’_

_There was a rustling from behind him, and Jack paused in his reverie to assess his surroundings. The grove of trees just a short distance from his lake looked like any other part of the forest, just as green and brown as everything else. Unremarkable, save the small pile of rocks at which Jack sat._

_And the Easter Bunny, glaring at him from a few feet away._

_“What are you doing here, mate?” Bunnymund was clearly exhausted, his voice rough and his words slurring just a touch at the end. His eyes displayed his weariness clearly, and his expression as he looked upon the spirit of winter was wary._

_Jack merely shrugged, not even offering a glare in return as he directed his gaze back to the pile of rocks before him. “I live here.” He didn’t ask what Bunny was doing there. He knew. It was Easter, so Bunny had likely just finished his run. He didn’t question why the rabbit was in Burgess last instead of on the west coast, either; he had likely done something special for the kids that had saved him and the other Guardians not so long ago._

_Jack didn’t see Bunny’s reaction to his words, but the wind carried the sound of a sharp inhale and shaky exhale to his ears. Jack hadn’t told Bunny where he lived before now, he realized._

_A few moments later the sound of grass and leaves crunching underfoot reached Jack’s ears, and he glanced over in that direction. To his left, Bunny had cautiously approached, and was now observing the pile of rocks in front of Jack._

_“What are you up to, Frost?” came that voice again, gruff and deep and lyrical even when exhausted. The words weren’t sharp, they were soft instead. It was close to the tone that had been used back in the Warren before everything went wrong during Pitch’s attempted coup, but different. Warmer, somehow. It was a tone he’d heard more often recently. Even then, his first reaction should have been to dismiss the question. To keep the other at a distance._

_Instead, he replied. “Paying my respects.”_

_Instantly, “To who?”_

_“My friend. My only friend.”_

_There was silence, and when Jack looked over at Bunny he was stricken by the look on the rabbit’s face. Some expression that seemed to cross pain, horror, sympathy, and understanding all at once. Bunny opened his mouth to speak, but then apparently having nothing to say closed it again._

_They sat in silence for a few minutes, but before too long Jack felt a hesitant pressure on his shoulder. When had Bunny sat down next to him?_

_“Would you maybe... ah… tell me about them?”_

_Jack sighed, then drew a surprised honk out of the rabbit next to him by leaning into the other spirit’s side. It took only a moment before the other’s arm hesitantly settled around his shoulders. Settling into the cautious hug, Jack began his story._

  


I was still a new spirit when I found her. It was the middle of January, and I was just starting to test my powers farther away from my lake. She was so small and well-hidden that I almost didn’t notice when she fell out of the little alcove she was holed up in, tumbling out into the snow. I probably wouldn’t have noticed had she not knocked into me. It… it was the first time anyone, human or otherwise, had ever touched me, really. Imagine my surprise when I turned to find this terrified wolf pup half-buried in the snow behind me, all matted white-grey fur and wide brown eyes. Old enough to not need her mother’s milk specifically, but still too young to eat anything solid. She didn’t really react much other than to whine a bit when I reached down to pick her up; understandable, I guess, considering how thin she was. She was starved, it looked like, and completely alone. No one left in the world to care for her, to take care of her.

Just like me.

Once I’d determined that the pup was abandoned – her mother having either died or left her for dead - I bundled her up as best as I could and took her home. I brought her back to my lake and made a place for her in my little cave. I figured it was warm enough in there, but since I’m not exactly the best judge of that I built a small fire in the rocks just in case. After that, it was just a matter of getting milk and a something to feed her with, you know? I don’t like stealing from people, especially in winter when it was difficult to replace things, but I didn’t have much of a choice when I needed supplies. Turns out I already knew how to milk a cow- which confused me at the time, but I guess it makes sense now- and after that it was just a matter of getting a bottle and a leather teat or something. It was still the mid-seventeen hundreds, so no one had figured out the rubber stuff yet.

I took care of her, nursed her back to health with stolen goods. She was so weak, barely moving or making a sound other than the occasional whine or whimper when something happened that surprised or scared her. It took a full day before she would accept any food from me, and once she did she didn’t take much. Too weak, I suppose. Or maybe too scared. Still, I managed, and eventually she started to get better. It took nearly a month, but she started to move around on her own again. Not much, I think she was still scared of me then, but enough for me to know that she was recovering.

About that time I realized that she wouldn’t survive on her own. I’d have to take care of her until she grew up and could fend for herself. I figured I could probably do it, I’d watched wolves raise their young some; I’d just have to do what they did, for the most part. It’d be easy, though I’d need to give her a name if I was going to keep her.

So I named her Emma. My sister’s name, even if I didn’t know that then.

In another week’s time, Emma started to get used to me. She didn’t seem to trust me yet, always watching me with too-large eyes; always a little bit tense. Still, she must have at least felt safe, since she was always there in that cave when I came back from spreading snow or picking up more supplies. Then one day I came back, and she was moving around. Rolling around and wrestling with some blankets I used for a… nest is probably the best word, I guess, for that ratty bed. She stopped as soon as she heard me, but it made me happy knowing that she was better.

Weeks turned into months, and eventually Emma became comfortable around me, enough to keep playing when I came back to her wrestling with sheets or gnawing on a stick. Eventually, she started to play with me too. Wrestling and chasing and biting, though never with any real force. When spring arrived I started taking her out of the cave with me to help her learn how to hunt for her food- and then ground it up into smaller chunks with some rocks so she could eat it properly – and guided her around the forest until she was able to get around by herself. There weren’t any other major predators in that area at the time, thankfully, so she was able to move around in relative safety.

By the time summer rolled around and I had to hibernate- well, estivate- I figured she would be able to survive on her own for a few months.

She did.

When I woke up that fall, it was to an overly excited wolf nearly three times the size of the pup I’d originally rescued. Emma’s first reaction was almost like a domesticated dog’s, and involved a bit too much licking for my tastes. I… I can’t describe how happy I was that she’d stayed. That she kept watch over me when I wasn’t able to watch over myself.

Suddenly I wasn’t alone anymore.

Emma followed me around wherever she could, watching me as I learned how my powers worked and started to understand my limits, or lack of them. When I wasn’t messing with clouds or frosting things over, I played with her, wrestling, play fighting, target practice with my snowballs. The first time I had to fight for real- a wendigo that had wandered close to a human settlement- it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been thanks to that. I was fast, and knew how to dodge away from its attacks and how to aim at quick targets. I only suffered a few bruises and scratches.

Emma helped me with the humans too. When I found the occasional lost child she helped me guide them home. After all, humans could see her just fine, even if I was invisible to them.

It was like that for a very long time. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice when a hundred years had gone by and she was somehow still around, lively as that first summer she stood watch over me. I don’t think I would have questioned it if I had, though. Gift horses and all that.

I wish it could have lasted.

I was fighting an Ice Wyrm that had been about to eat some children, and losing. Both of us were weakened, but it was bigger than me. Stronger. I got knocked aside, but just before it sunk its teeth into me, a grey blur slammed into the side of its head, knocking it over. Emma had been nearby, I guess, and rushed to help me. There was a lot of thrashing as the thing tried to toss her off, but she’d sunk her teeth into whatever it was that served as its jugular. She hung on, even after she’d been slammed against a tree, and the wyrm eventually stopped struggling and died. Emma had saved my life, just as I’d saved hers all those years ago.

She survived the initial fight, but there must have been internal bleeding or something. She refused to move when I went to pull her away from the evaporating corpse of the creature that had nearly killed me, and a few minutes later she couldn’t breathe anymore. There was nothing I could do.

On that day, April twelfth of 1868, she passed away.

  


_There was silence for a while after Jack finished his story. No sounds save the shifting of plant-life in the gentle wind dared disturb the solemn spirits as they sat before the makeshift grave. Bunny’s arm had migrated to Jack’s waist and his muzzle was resting atop the younger spirit’s head in a gesture of comfort. Thin rivulets of liquid graced Jack’s features, though he did not weep. He had grieved enough in the past for his only friend’s passing that only those few tears remained._

_After what felt like hours, Jack felt the pressure of Bunny’s muzzle leave his head. A moment later the rabbit set his forehead against Jack’s shoulder, the top of his head against Jack’s neck._

_“I’m sorry,” he said, the somewhat slurred words hanging in the air. The tone suggested that it was not an attempt at consolation, but a genuine apology._

_Jack frowned, shifting slightly away from the contact. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Bunny.”_

_Bunny, however, shook his head, still pressed into the crook of Jack’s neck. “You’re wrong,” he countered, “I spent a hundred and fifty years holding a grudge against a young man whose only crime was grieving for a lost friend. I’ve got plenty to be sorry for.”_

_Jack had no rebuttal for that, and so remained silent._

_Bunny waited a moment for a response, and when it became obvious that Jack would not be replying, he sighed in resignation. The two sat in silence for several minutes more after that, neither knowing what to say to the other. Then, as if coming to a decision, Bunny shifted and brought up his free hand, reaching forward and placing it on the ground at the base of the grave. The contact was short, Bunny dragging his paw quickly along the ground, but the result was instantaneous. Immediately flowers burst forth from the ground, starting with a few white poppies interspaced with purple hyacinths. Around them, dark pink roses sans bush bunched together in full bloom._

_And at the center, a single pink carnation._

_Almost as immediately, Bunny slumped against Jack, as though suddenly unable to hold his own weight. Jack responded quickly, holding up the rabbit and checking him over in concern. His concern vanished, though, when he saw the lopsided smile on his fellow spirit’s face. Jack sighed in annoyance. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but what’s with the flowers, Cottontail?”_

_Bunny didn’t respond immediately, looking over at Jack and seeming to take a moment to process the words, then the goofy smile on his face twitched and widened ever so slightly. “Was a thank you,” he slurred, directing his eyes to the grave marker before them, “If that sheila hadn’t been around to save you, we might never have met.”_

_Jack’s eyes widened, and he glanced down at the small arrangement of flowers. “I guess you’re right.”_

_“Mhmm,” Bunny hummed, his head falling to rest on Jack’s shoulder again, and his eyes fighting to stay open. Jack huffed and gently shook the rabbit._

_“Think you can open a tunnel before you fall asleep on me?”_

_Bunny’s response was to groan and shake his head weakly against Jack’s hoodie. Whatever energy he’d had left after Easter, he’d used up to create those flowers. To show his appreciation to Jack’s only other friend in the world._

_Because without her, they might not have met._

_Jack smiled, running a hand through the fur atop Bunny’s head and standing up. It wasn’t as difficult as he would have thought to pull the half-sleeping rabbit to his feet, and it was just as easy to support his weight as he guided his friend away from the gravesite._

_“You’re lucky I know a place you can take a nap, Cottontail.”_

_Jack was surely imagining the smile-like twitch of Bunny’s lips as they stepped into the cave Jack called home._

_Behind them, the flowers swayed gently, the Wind nuzzling them playfully._

**Author's Note:**

> Written In memory of Emma Russell; March 2003 – November 2014; True Friend, and a Guardian in her own right. Though she never had to protect me with her life, I have no doubt that she would have had the need arisen.
> 
> My thanks to Kayasurin for helping with this by being a lovely Beta to my work, I greatly appreciate you taking your time to help me make this a great story.
> 
> As a side note, there's more to that end than meets the eye. Think on it. :3


End file.
